Whispers of the Darkness
by Zayxoo
Summary: A man once laid to rest, Syndey Losstarot is resurrected for reasons he cannot understand. To top it all off, he has been awakened in a place he has never seen before. When the Keyblade Master Riku finds him, he cannot help but be drawn to him. Could he have played a part in his return? Or is it something else? (My first fanfic, so sorry if it's not the best.)


**Author's Note: I've always loved Vagrant Story and the fact that nothing in that game was as it appeared. So I wondered what it would be like if Vagrant Story and Kingdom Hearts, my two favorite games, collided? What might happen? Who knows~~~ Takes place two years after the events of Kingdom Hearts 2, because I can.**

**Edit: I take that back. A year after the events of Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SquareEnix, Squaresoft, Kingdom Hearts, or Vagrant Story. All credit goes to their respective owners.**

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**The Prophet's Return**

Chapter 1

It was a small light at first. A strange sight in the company of his shallow black cloak of a cocoon but it was comforting all the same. He could not help but reach out for it. The starry light shimmered and spread its brilliance, casting away his gloomy shell and wrapping him tight in it's sweet embrace. At first, he scorned it. He struggled and covered his face with his arms as his body curled into itself. There was pain and irritation when it touched him. He was well off as he was! Or...perhaps he wasn't? The darkness that had cradled him only moments before felt wrong. The more he thought about it, the more he relaxed into the warm comfort of the blinding light. Eventually his eyes began to adjust. A distant and aloof expression took over his features. Once more he looked up and reached for the source of the light. His action was stopped abruptly. He blinked and found that the euphoric feeling he had was gone. No longer was there a warm light to soothe his pain. A headache began to pulse in his skull as his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark area around him. A hand cradled his throbbing head and he looked around. The entire area was dimly lit but from what he could tell, it was a madhouse of sorts. There were signs flashing flamboyantly bright auras, spelling out words in languages he did not understand. Wood and metal alike were twisted in unnatural ways. White gloved hands sprouting from a post pointed in all directions, giving vague guidance to those who knew what they meant. He blinked, trying to comprehend the sight of it all but to no avail. He glanced back up the light, which was now a lamp post, he had previously reached out for and took several steps back. Another look around and the man realized that there were hardly any people about. Strange humans and creatures, from the few he managed to glance at, scampered to their destinations with barely a moment's pause. _This place..._ He though to himself, _...almost seems like a corrupted child's dream._ He caught his thoughts though and shook his head, pulling his hand away and examining it.

It wasn't a hand per se. It was actually a metal claw, the nails wickedly long and just as wickedly jagged. Of course, the nails were only there as a means of intimidation, they served no real purpose. Both his arms, from his shoulders down, were made of an incredibly strong golden plated metal called eldritch Hagane mythril. His legs were made of the same material and were like that from mid-thigh down, his feet coming to a point like a medieval knight's boot and with a sharp spur jutting out of the back of his ankles. No one quite knows what happened to his body. It was a secret that the man kept closely guarded. If anything, hardly anyone know a damned thing about this metal-limbed man. Just the way he preferred it.

He took a deep breath, at last managing to collect his thoughts. _An odd dream "The Dark" has given me. Even unto death, you can still dream? Such a noble concept indeed... _His grey-blue eyes noticed a white creature with purple-colored wings staring at him and his expression instantly sharpened. _Strange, I don't feel death's sweet embrace though. I don't feel empty. _What could this mean? Did that light bring him back from beyond the grave? As much as he found amusement in that thought, he found it ridiculous and redundant. He was a grimoire made flesh and he knew of no spell that could bring back the dead. And who on earth would bring _him_ back? No one he knew of, for certain. Hardin was dead, as was his father. His entire cult was wiped out. Joshua did not know him. And the two Riskbreakers paid him no second thought. _I am alive, but why? I am supposed to be dead with Ashley Riot as the successor of "The Dark". So why do I yet live? And with "It's" power no less._ His arms crossed over his bare chest as he began to lose himself in thought. As for his location, he was certainly not in Leá Monde. If he was, he needed to find whoever redesigned the beautiful jewel of a city and make him suffer untold torment. The air was familiar. But while he could taste the despair of lost souls in the air, there was something different about it. There were no feelings of rage or agony. The air was heavy, but not with the hatred and bitterness he had grown so accustomed to. No, it was a heavy veil of regret and sorrow. It almost made him feel uncomfortable. By now, he would be ranting up a storm, cursing his non-existent luck and demanding the people to tell him where he was. But, he just stayed calm. He couldn't quite understand why this was. Perhaps it was because this dream was too surreal to take in. Maybe it was a growing shallow pride that "The Dark" might have preferred him to be "It's" avatar.

_Speaking of "The Dark"..._ He quickly thought and focused his attention on the hauntingly familiar embrace of the inverted Iocus Rood that marred his skin once more. If one looked closely at the tattoo, traditionally called the Blood Sin Rood, they could see that it was pulsating. The intricate elongated six-point cross covered his long back, from the base of his skull to the small of his hips. _There are no traces of "The Dark" in this place? How peculiar. _"Something else replaces 'It's' presence here? I didn't think it was possible," he murmured to himself, at last whispering his first words. The action only served to confirm that he was, in fact, alive. An irritated sigh escaped his lips and he turned abruptly to walk away from the lamp post. His legs clamored loudly against the mute colored stones but he paid it no heed. "What is this bleak energy that surrounds me? It feels primitive. Disgusting even," he growled to himself. "It's not a mass of living energy it's just...there. Almost as though it's there to spite any who feel it and yet isn't even aware of it's own presence. How crude."

A voice rang out suddenly. People rushed into the safety of their homes, their critters close on their heels. Someone scrambled into the clearing of the town square, hurrying to some form of safety. The tall man watched the estranged victim and tried to find what had given chase. "Y-You should get out of here! They'll rip you apart!"

He chuckled in amusement and shrugged off the warning. _Unless it is a dragon of sorts, I highly doubt that I will need to worry for my own safety._

From the shadows a creature emerged. It was small, almost as small as a toddler, but was entirely black with zigzagged horns protruding from it's forehead. It's eyes were a menacing yellow. The creature moved about in an almost dancing manner. At first, it was a quiet chuckle, but it wasn't long before the man began to laugh at the ridiculousness of the sight. "**I **should be _afraid_ of **this**? Such weak-willed men that inhabit these wooden havens!" The air around the tall pale man shifted, becoming thick and riddled with a magic no human should comprehend. Slowly and gracefully, his metal clad feet no longer touched the ground and he hovered a few feet above the creature. Golden claws tensed as dark air swirled menacingly in his palms. The creature must have realized that a threat had appeared, for there were more behind it. They jumped to him without warning, but he was ready. He could feel magic surge through him in a violent way. In a way...it scared him. Was his essence, was "The Dark" afraid of what challenged them? Did "It" actually deem these pathetically tiny creatures a threat? For "The Dark" to be so intent in disposing something... The thoughts and emotions that captured his heart made him even more fearful. Eventually he allowed his power to take control of his body, letting "It" do what needed to be done.

When the swirls of fragmented darkness faded away, he settled back down on the ground. "Such danger...perhaps I should be careful. 'It' doesn't seem to approve of the darkness that surrounds us-" His quiet murmurings were quickly silenced when he felt something press against his back. He wanted to scream in pain. It almost seemed to burn him, whatever it was that touched his skin.

"Normally, I wouldn't do this to a person who just lost their home world, but that was something I cannot ignore."

Ah, at last, a person who had sense. Their voice was soft yet hardened, as though they had something to live down but found it hopeless. All the same, there was something about them that he found quite familiar. He slowly raised his hands to show that he meant no harm, although he did scrape his extremely long claws. "I see, but perhaps I could persuade you to turn your eye? I was merely defending myself, after all."

"After you answer some questions, I _might_ think about it."

"Charming, but understandable. I have a few inquiries for you to explain as well. Now if you would be so kind as to sheathe your weapon? I prefer to face those I speak to." There was a moment's hesitation from the other male, but he did pull his weapon back. Slowly, the taller male turned to face him, his hands still in the air. His interrogator was just an adolescent, but his face showed that he had been through many a trial. And perhaps failed quite a few. Sharp pale blue-green eyes glared at him from under the cover of moon silver bangs. His face was still a little round, but it was still sleek and beautiful. Now if only his clothing matched this boy's grace, he would take him far more seriously. But sadly, he was clad with a white and yellow vest. A white glove on his left hand. Leggings that...were oddly loose around him, almost sagging with a tight belt as their only saving grace. He almost looked like a jester. The child was younger than he let on, but his eyes were far older than he should be. "Might I know the pleasure of your name, child?"

The adolescent raised an irritated eyebrow but merely hefted an odd weapon onto his shoulder. It was a demon's wing with an a cupid's wing perpendicular to the tip. Perhaps this was a sword, but he had never seen such a thing in all his years. The hilt was surrounded another pair of wings sprouting from a green cat eye: another angel's wing and a demon's wing. "Riku. Now who are you?"

His eyes peeled away from the weapon and to the sea colored orbs that demanded his cooperation.

"My name...is Sydney Losstarot..."

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**And there you have it. Chapter one down~ Wasn't nearly as bad as I thought, for a first time. R/R greatly appreciated~ ^^ Stay tuned!**


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